


freaking out the neighborhood

by bearkwans



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Bottom Richie Tozier, Crack, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, Kinda, M/M, Meet-Cute, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Sexting, Swearing, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, chapter two ended up being very inappropriate, eddie is a veterinarian, eddie is secxy, not crack like cocaine just crack like richie being a dumbass, richie is the father of a snake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-18 21:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19342543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearkwans/pseuds/bearkwans
Summary: Richie thinks that this is what being a father is like. He sure fucking feels like a father, dropping all of his plans to take care of his pet, making very specific google searches and running around his apartment like a madman, grabbing toys and a blanket and a few mice in a tupperware bowl. He knows logistically that everything he’s grabbing is useless and what he really needs is a chill pill and maybe some whiskey to soothe his shaking hands, but Richie can’t help the way his paternal side wakes up and takes control of his mind.Instead of buckling a child into a carseat, though, Richie grabs a snake from a terrarium and transfers him into the “travel cage” that he bought when he brought his snake to see a drive-in movie. Noodle is curled into a sad ball, his tail wrapped tightly around itself. He’s asleep even as Richie picks him up, which is the first bad sign, and he doesn’t move at all when Richie plants him into his other cage, which is the second bad sign. Richie can’t run to his car fast enough.[or: richie's pet snake is sick and he goes to see vet eddie ;) ;)]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a while ago i had the idea of eddie being a vet and richie bringing in his snake and making an innuendo out of it and here we are i have Finally written it 
> 
> i tried to be Richie Funny but i dunno the dudes untouchable in that department i hope this suffices
> 
> enjoy!! 
> 
> (title is a mac demarco song)

Richie thinks that this is what being a father is like. He sure fucking feels like a father, dropping all of his plans to take care of his pet, making very specific google searches and running around his apartment like a madman, grabbing toys and a blanket and a few mice in a tupperware bowl. He knows logistically that everything he’s grabbing is useless and what he really needs is a chill pill and maybe some whiskey to soothe his shaking hands, but Richie can’t help the way his paternal side wakes up and takes control of his mind. 

He’s grabbing Danger Noodle’s cage, making sure to cover it with the soft blanket he got so Noodle isn’t scared by the car, throwing the toys in there as well, making sure the bottom of the cage is covered in shavings and the water bowl is empty so there isn’t any spills. Richie feels like he’s protecting his own, like he’s driving his son to the ER after he fell off of his bike or he bumped his head or he got a fever that was higher than 102.

Instead of buckling a child into a carseat, though, Richie grabs a snake from a terrarium and transfers him into the “travel cage” that he bought when he brought his snake to see a drive-in movie. Noodle is curled into a sad ball, his tail wrapped tightly around itself. He’s asleep even as Richie picks him up, which is the first bad sign, and he doesn’t move at all when Richie plants him into his other cage, which is the second bad sign. Richie can’t run to his car fast enough.

 

  
Richie is out of breath and embarrassingly sweaty when he bounces up to the front desk. It’s nearly a thousand degrees outside even with the sun quickly setting and the stars already sparkling through the clouds, Richie stupidly having on his cookie monster pajama pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He’d literally dropped everything when he noticed that Danger Noodle was sick, and he probably would’ve shown up naked, if that’s what condition he’d been in when the incident happened. 

There’s only one person in the waiting room and they’re scrolling on their phone, not paying any attention to Richie, an empty cage at their side. Richie thinks that maybe everyone else in the world has standards for how they look leaving the house, but Richie hasn’t yet gotten the memo.

The woman at the front counter has her red hair hanging messily around her face, some of it pulled into a bun and the rest of it dangling down to her shoulders. She smiles a tired smile when he walks up, setting Noodle’s cage down on the counter. Her eyes are a pretty gray-green, and her makeup is a bit smudged around her eyes, but nevertheless she looks a gazillion times more put together than Richie ever has.

“Hello, sir. What brings you in today?” She asks, already pulling out papers that Richie will have to fill out, her movements practiced and sure as she clips everything together on a clipboard.

Richie blows out a deep breath, shoving his hands in his hair to push it out of his eyes. “My snake, Danger Noodle, is having some bowel issues.”

She smiles politely at him, her mouth pulling up in a hint of a smile when she hears Noodle’s name. “What kind of bowel issues?” 

“The dude is shitting all over the place, and I have no idea why,” Richie replies. His hand is tapping a nervous rhythm on the counter. He’s a compact ball of energy, like the sun, except a lot less helpful and a lot more all over the place. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet and pushing his hair out of his eyes and pushing his glasses up on his nose and glancing periodically at Noodle’s cage.

The woman nods, and Richie sees her name tag peeking out from underneath her hair:  _ BEVERLY :) _ . Richie promises to remember her name because he vows to send her a personalized thank you card if him and Danger Noodle make it out of this experience alive.

“What do you usually feed him?”

Richie thinks about the mice he has stored in a box in his car. What if they bite through the plastic and then run around in his car and shit all over the place and nibble on the leather like it’s cheese as payback for planning to feed them to a snake? He figures he’d deserve that. “Mice. I read that they also eat birds but my friend Stan really likes birds and he told me if I ever fed Noodle birds he’d open his cage and let Noodle eat me.”

He’s rambling and Beverly seems to notice, a brighter, more sincere smile pulling at her lips. In any other situation Richie would be happy that he made her happy, but right now his stomach his curled up in nauseating knots and his veins are full of ants or spiders or fucking  _ frogs _ , hopping around and sending jitters through his fingers. “Your snake probably wouldn’t ever eat you; you’re much too big for him to digest.”

“Noodle can do anything he puts his mind to,” Richie replies. He loves his snake so much, he’d probably let Noodle eat him if that’s what Noodle really wanted, because Noodle was amazing and deserved to have whatever he wanted. “Except for not shit on himself. Do you think he’s dying? If he dies, I might die and then it would be very awkward because I’m a large animal and I read on the sign for this place that you only take in small animals.”

Beverly shakes her head, sensing that Richie isn’t trying to be funny and is, genuinely, about to piss and/or shit all over himself if his snake didn’t get a diagnosis pronto. “No, I doubt he’s dying. He probably just has a parasite. Fill out these forms and I’ll get him back as fast as possible.”

Richie grabs the clipboard and one of the pens from the cup, taking Noodle’s cage and himself to one of the open chairs. The seat is hard and uncomfortable against his back, and everytime he bounces his knee the chair squeaks, but he can’t waste time moving to find a better place for his ass. His hand is shaking when he writes down what breed of snake Danger Noodle is and where he got him, his handwriting nearly illegible.

His phone begins trilling in his pocket, the beginning of Sexy Back startling him and the other person in the room. And then Richie remembers that he’d made plans with Stanley and Ben and Mike and was currently not at the nearest club with his ass in Stan’s face. He digs his phone out of his pocket- whoever invented Cookie Monster pajamas with pockets got Richie’s five-star rating- and clicks accept.

“You better have a good fucking reason for flaking on us, Tozier,  _ and  _ for not replying to any of my messages because we have been worried sick about you, thinking you finally got murdered for saying the wrong thing to the wrong person-”

Stan has some fucking lungs on him, Jesus Christ, and Richie nearly hangs up on him. But he understands why Stan is upset, knows that he would be too if he was in Stan’s place, so he lets Stan empty his lungs and get all of his angry, worried, upset words out now.

Richie sighs when Stan finally gets quiet, a sign that he needs to start explaining himself immediately. “I’m sorry, Stan, but Danger Noodle got sick and I had to take him to the fucking animal ER place and I didn’t want to waste time calling you when he could be  _ dying- _ ”

“What the fuck happened to Noodle? Do you want us to come?”

“No, it’s okay,” Richie says, feeling a sudden rush of affection for his friends and the fact that they worry for him and his pet and care so much about them. “I’ll keep you updated, though. I love all three of you, have fun, don’t let Noodle and I ruin your party time, okay?”

Richie’s still filling out the papers as he speaks, although it’s a strain on his mind to focus on two things at once, and so the words that he’s writing get scrambled up with the ones that he’s saying and he has to cross out ‘ _ I noticed that Danger Noodle shit all in his party time _ ’.

Stan hangs up after saying that they love him too-  _ And Noodle! _ \- and that Richie better keep them updated or he’ll be friendless in the morning. Richie feels a bit better after hearing Stan’s voice, turning to peek into Noodle’s cage and letting a smile spread out onto his face when he notices his snake is awake and staring right back at him.

Richie gives the clipboard back to Beverly, plopping into his seat and dragging Noodle’s cage over to him. He shoves his face against the tiny holes in the cage, making sure that Noodle got a good look at him. “The next time you wanna pull some shit like this-” Richie smiles at his unintended pun before continuing- “I will send you off to boarding school, you got that? And I mean it this time. I know I said that after you slapped Stan with your tail but that was funny and mostly just because Stan was standing right there. This one, though, is absolutely in no way funny.”

The snake doesn’t reply but he plops his head back down, his beady little eyes speaking depths into Richie’s soul. His body is still wound up tightly, but Richie thinks that maybe it looks a bit more normal, a bit more like a snake should look rather than a fucking living pretzel.

The door by the front desk opens wide, and Richie’s head turns in the direction of the sound. He grins when he sees the vet that’s standing there, curly brown hair and big brown eyes and freckled cheeks. The vet’s scrubs are a deep, royal purple that look beautiful against his milky white skin, and for a small, extremely selfish moment, Richie thanks his snake for getting sick.

“Uh- Danger Noodle? Owner Richie?” The doctor says, his eyes scanning Richie up and down when Richie stands from his seat.

Richie hopes that this particular veterinarian finds the Cookie Monster adorable and charming, and that he’s willing to look past Richie’s drunkenly-chosen name for his pet snake. Richie thinks that Danger Noodle is a far more appropriate name for a snake than something like Fred or Michael, which had been Stan’s input, and he doesn’t regret it for a moment.

Richie holds onto Noodle’s cage carefully as he makes his way over to the open door. “That’s us.”

“Nice to meet you, Richie, I’m Eddie. I tried reading the issues you’ve noticed Danger Noodle having, but I had a hard time reading your handwriting. Do you think you can reiterate what you wrote?”

Richie likes that he’s looking down at Eddie, likes that Eddie is nearly pocket-sized, likes that Eddie is so fucking cute and clearly cares so much about Danger Noodle. “Sure. My handwriting must’ve been really off if a doctor couldn’t read it.”

Eddie smiles up at Richie, his teeth perfectly straight and pearly-white in his mouth. “Glad you’re well enough to make jokes.”

“Always,” Richie replies. “Anyways, about Noodle. I noticed that he was having pretty bad diarrhea this morning, and unfortunately I had to go off to work so I wasn’t able to bring him in earlier. Then when I got home, I noticed that he was curled into a really tight ball in the corner of his terrarium, and that he hadn’t even touched his food. I did some googling but pretty much everything told me that he was probably just having a stomach ache. But I know my snake, so I brought him in.”

Eddie nods through Richie’s explanation, stopping at an open doorway and gesturing for Richie to enter first. He closes the door behind them, setting the clipboard with all of Richie and Noodle’s shit written out on it on the counter. “Okay. It sounds like he probably has a parasite. Do you know whether or not he was bred or wild caught?”

“Wild caught. I could’ve gotten a bred one but then it made me sad thinking about all those snake moms who were forced to have sex and I just couldn’t buy into that, you know?”

Eddie laughs a little, moving to where Richie is standing awkwardly in the corner, holding Noodle’s cage tightly like he’s afraid Noodle is going to slither away. “Sure, I get it. Now are you going to give me Danger Noodle or am I going to have to fight you for him?”

Richie hands Noodle over sadly, feeling like he’s giving away his first born, watching Eddie carefully even though he’s a trained professional and is probably much more qualified to handle a snake than Richie himself is. “Just be careful with the wee lad. He’s sensitive.”

“Are you always this odd?” Eddie asks, setting Noodle’s cage on the counter beside their clipboard, moving the blanket off of the top and assessing Noodle.

Richie moves to plop down in one of the chairs by the wall. He stretches his legs out watching Eddie move confidently around the room, his tiny legs taking him places swiftly and surely. “Yes, but it’s worse because I’m nervous. Noodle was my first ever pet and I don’t want him to cease to exist.”

“He won’t,” Eddie replies. “He just has a parasite, all I have to do is give him some medicine and he’ll be back to normal. Now, I have to ask what kind of conditions is he in at home?”

“This is my child, I take wonderful care of him,” Richie says, feeling a bit offended. He would never give his  _ son  _ a parasite.

Eddie laughs again, apparently amused at Richie’s offense. Richie thinks that maybe this vet is super fucking cute but also a dick because couldn’t he see that Richie was two seconds away from bursting into full man tears over this snake? “I am so happy to hear that. Again, what conditions is he in at home? Like, what temperature do you keep his terrarium at, what sort of bedding does he have, does he share the cage with other snakes, things like that.”

Richie watches as Eddie unlocks the cage, reaching in to bring his hand down on Noodle’s head gently. Noodle’s red and orange scales are shiny under the white-washed hospital lights, and maybe it’s Richie’s imagination that Noodle looks brighter, his colors less sad and dull and more fiery. “I have a heating pad that is about 78 degrees on the floor of his terrarium, aspen shavings, and no he doesn’t. I did my research.”

“You did,” Eddie replies. He’s speaking gently too, maybe so that he doesn’t wake Noodle, or maybe because he  _ can  _ tell Richie is about two seconds away from bursting into full man tears. He looks back at Richie, his eyes very big and very sparkly, his eyelashes long and thick and looking prettier on him than on anyone else Richie has ever seen. “I’m going to have to give Noodle his medicine now.”

Richie’s heart nearly drops down to his balls, and he’s shaking his head at the idea that he might have to go sit in the waiting room like that other person, not knowing what’s happening to his snake. “Can I stay back here while you give him his medicine? He gets nervous gas.”

Eddie looks surprised for only a second before he schools his face. He seems to really be thinking through Richie’s request, as if he was about to whip out some top secret information and Richie was foiling his plans.  _ Too fucking bad _ , Richie thinks.

“I… Well, I guess, but you need to stay out of the way. I have to fix your snake,” Eddie says. He’s blinking down at Richie and his lips are shining and his hands are tiny and cute where they dangle down at his side, probably small enough to fit in the palm of Richie’s hand.

Richie smiles brightly at Eddie, his mouth moving at rocket speed as it usually does, not giving his brain time to catch up before he’s saying, “I’ve got a snake for you to fix,” winking playfully at Eddie. He feels much better than he did twenty minutes ago, and his body has finally seemed to realize that not only was this doctor adorable, he was also sexy and beautiful and a combination of everything Richie finds attractive in a human. He’s got big doe eyes and his scrubs are tight on his arms and thighs and his ass looks perky and very much touchable.

Eddie’s cheeks flame an intoxicating shade of red, all the way from the apples of his cheeks and down to where his chest is peeking out from the purple scrubs. Richie wants to reach out and touch it, see if the blush was as hot as it looks. “One more word from you and you’re being sent into the waiting room, got it?”

“Aye aye, doctor cutie,” Richie replies, throwing up a salute before curling up in the chair, tugging his long legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. He feels exhaustion wash over him watching Eddie move around the room confidently, all of the emotions that he’d gone through today washing over him and making his eyelids heavy like they weigh a thousand pounds. Instead of closing his eyes and falling asleep like he wants to, he pulls his phone from his pocket and clicks on Stan’s contact. He notices that it’s already close to eight o’clock at night, and wonders how late Eddie’s shifts go.

It rings twice before the phone clicks and Stan’s voice filters in through the line. “How is he? I’ve been worrying and you haven’t been very helpful at making me feel better, asshole-”

“Hold your horses, Stan the Man. I’ve been out being a father, don’t come at me with your word-pitchforks. Anyways, Danger Noodle is okay. There is a very cute veterinarian that’s assisting him right now. Turns out he has parasites. Probably got ‘em from you!”

Stan doesn’t laugh-- Richie doesn’t expect him to, especially after many years of friendship and hearing the same jokes being recycled for different occasions- but Eddie does and that’s what Richie was gunning for. “Shut the fuck up, dick head. Tell me more about the cute vet, though, it’s nice to hear you talk about someone aside from yourself.”

“Can’t talk now Stan, I’m still at the office. Promise to tell you as soon as I get home, ‘kay? Noodle says hi,” Richie tells Stan, watching his snake nibble on the bit of food Eddie laid out for him with the pill crushed on top. He’s still moving slow, looking sleepy and lethargic, but he scarfs down the rest of the food quickly. 

“No he didn’t,” Stan replies. “Snakes can’t talk.”

Richie laughs, giggling harder when he notices how Eddie jumps at the sudden noise. “Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Staniel. Was just trying to make you feel better, but I’ll remember to keep my comfort in my back pocket.”

“Finally. Maybe you’ll keep the rest of your words back there, too, I’ve been wanting some peace and quiet the past twelve years of my life,” Stan says, but Richie knows that  Stan is joking. Or he hopes, at least, because Stan’s humor is dry but so is the rest of him and sometimes it’s hard to tell the two apart.

Richie hangs up the phone, stuffing it back into his pocket and turning his attention back to Eddie. He’s watching Noodle eat, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands clasped together on the counter. “You okay, Eddie Spaghetti?”

Eddie turns to face Richie and the furrow in his eyebrow his gone, but his hands are still clasped in front of his stomach, and he’s biting the corner of his bottom lip in a way that looks painful. “Not my name. Was that your boyfriend?” He unclasps his hand and gestures somewhere in Richie’s direction.

“Nope,” Richie replies, popping the ‘p’ and grinning up at Eddie. “Why, are you feeling jealous? Don’t worry, Spaghetti man, I’m all yours. At least until my snake is less of an uncooked noodle.”

“I could care less,” Eddie says, but his eyes are brighter and he’s freed his lip from its former confinement, smiling just as happily at Richie as Richie is at him. “Just wondering why someone would do such a thing.”

Richie chuckles, standing up from his seat. Normally he would find it comical the way Eddie’s eyes have to move up to meet his, but all Richie feels is warm, heat starting in the pit of his stomach and stinging its way through his veins and down to the tips of his fingers, to his toes, to his cheeks. “I don’t know, Eds. Would you ever do such a thing?”

“I could be persuaded,” Eddie replies back, and he looks vaguely surprised that the words came out of his own lips, mouth stuck open. He’s leaning as far back on the counter as he can, neck turned up to look at Richie, his elbows down on the table to support his weight. “But first you and your snake have to go. I’m a professional and it would be highly inappropriate if anything happened here.”  “Does that mean I have a chance with the cute vetrinarian?” Richie asks, smile growing wider when he gently picks up Danger Noodle and his snake wraps around his hands, laying his face down in the crook of Richie’s elbow.

Eddie watches it go down, his hip leaning against the counter, his eyes soft and warm, a pretty honey brown. “More than a chance, Rich; an offer. But only when I’m positive Danger Noodle is better, okay? You’ll have to bring Noodle in in a few weeks for a check up.”

Richie does the routine of putting Noodle back into his cage, closing the latch and tugging the blanket down over the front, turning to look at Eddie when he finishes. “Okay. Don’t have to tell me twice. I’ll miss you while I’m gone,” he says, grinning at Eddie when he grabs Noodle’s cage off of the counter, turning to the door.

He hears Eddie’s footsteps following quickly behind them, and just when Richie is about to push out of the back area and out the front doors, Eddie says, “Don’t miss me too much, Tozier,” so softly that maybe Richie made it up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie takes Eddie up on his offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter you've all been waiting for (i hope??) anyways, it's pretty fucken long so have fun with that
> 
> i had trouble getting started with this chapter so hopefully it's not too choppy!! 
> 
> also, it ended up being a lot more inappropriate than Previously Planned... i'm a big fan of bottom/sub richie and top/dom eddy so that's what i went with. 
> 
> enjoy,

Richie sits in his car, the air conditioner blowing against his hair and twirling it on top of his head, his eyes shut against the coldness. He absorbs the quiet feeling, the calmness of his heart, the way that the sunshine tickles against his cheeks, glinting through the windshield and making Richie see red against his eyelids. The silence calms Richie’s tornado mind, the swirling dying down for a few minutes. 

And then beside him Stan pushes out a loud sigh, shifting in his seat like he can’t stand to be still for more than three minutes. Richie wants to laugh because usually he’s the same way, usually he’s full of extra energy like a fucking battery, his brain moving a million miles a second and his legs always in motion. 

“Are we going to have this appointment in the car?” Stan asks, his voice almost booming in the quiet atmosphere. “Because we’ve been in here so long Noodle is probably turned into a fucking butterfly at this point.”

Richie grins, finally opening his eyes and turning to look over at Stan. His friend looks annoyed, glaring back at Richie, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm on his thigh. “Stanley, we both know that only worms turn into butterflies. I was just trying to get my chakras alined, or whatever, before we go in and see Eddie. My body has been on guard for the past two weeks, dude. I don’t know how my dick hasn’t fallen off yet.” 

“Probably because that’s where you keep your brain,” Stan replies, gesturing at Richie’s head and mouthing the word _‘empty’_. “Now come on, let’s go see your man!”

Richie grumbles as he steps out of his car, grabbing Danger Noodle’s cage from the back and holding him carefully as he walks to the door of the clinic. He can hear Stan’s happy footsteps behind him and regrets agreeing to bring him, because he _knows_ that as soon as Stan sees Eddie he’s going to be acting like a weird Jewish man-mom, embarrassing Richie and ruining his life. 

They push through the doors, Richie inhaling the scent of animals and hospitals and _love_ , his eyes immediately finding the bright red mop of hair at the front counter. 

Beverly smiles when she notices Richie, her green eyes lighting up like a candle. “Hi Richie! Back for your follow up appointment?”

“Yes, Miss Bev! Noodle said he missed you so much, we couldn’t wait any longer,” Richie replies. He sets his snake’s cage down on the counter, peeping in through the blanket to see Noodle curled around one of his toys sleeping soundly. 

She hands Richie a clipboard, noticing Stan and waving nicely at him. Her eyes go back to Richie, and she’s wearing sparkly pink eyeshadow that glitters when she moves, making her eyes look brighter. Or maybe that’s just the teasing glint that she’s hiding behind a polite smile. “Personally, I think you missed Eddie too much.” 

Richie gently tugs Noodle off of the counter, scowling down at Beverly. “You’re not supposed to know about that. It’s unprofessional. And anyways, no one asked.” He pretends not to see the grin Beverly has painted on her face, instead heading to find two open seats. 

“Who’s that?” Stan asks as soon as they’re out of hearing range. He’s sat beside Richie, his back pencil straight compared to Richie who’s slouched over nearly bent in half, his eyes darting around to the other people and their animals. Richie doesn’t even have to ask to know that Stan feels uncomfortable surrounded by sick, mouth-breathing creatures. “You seem like you know her well.” 

Richie’s writing carefully on the sheets of paper, trying to make his handwriting slightly more legible than the last time he’d been there. “I don’t; she was just at the front desk last time I was here. Guess my Cookie Monster pants made an impression on her.” 

“You were wearing your Cookie Monster pants? And this dude wants to have sex with you?” Stan asks incredulously. 

And sure, Richie should probably be offended because attraction wasn’t just based on what pants people are wearing fuck you very much Stanley, but he knows Stan has a point. “I know. Maybe he just wants to murder me.” 

Stan doesn’t reply and Richie finds himself getting nervous _again._ His stomach is crashing and tumbling around in his body like he’s turning into a hurricane, his skin buzzing with energy. His foot is tapping along to some imaginary beat, and he’s back to where he started the first time he showed up at the vet clinic, frogs thumping around in his veins and his heart choking him in his throat. 

He’s filling in information about how Noodle isn’t shitting all over the place and that he’s back to eating normally, when the door to the back area clicks open. Richie swings his head to the left, his fingers clenching around the pen so hard it just might snap, but all that greets him is a lady holding a cat in her arms, a hot pink leash dangling in her hand. 

He can feel Stan laughing beside him, his shoulder jiggling Richie’s arm as he chuckles. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Richie says, turning back to the clipboard with a sigh. “That was the worst experience of my life, I’ll have you know.” 

Stan laughs again but this time Richie laughs with him, smiling over at Stan. His golden brown hair is in tight curls on his head- his hair had always been much nicer than Richie’s because it never got frizzy when the air was too hot and the curls always stuck- and his brown eyes are happy. Richie thinks that Stan has been a lot happier lately, and he feels like a shitty friend for not noticing any sooner. 

“I thought the worst experience of your life was when you walked in on Ben masturbating. You talked about it for months,” Stan recalls. He’s finally sat comfortably in his chair, or as comfortable as one can be in a hard plastic seat, leaned back to look down at Richie who’s still folded over Noodle’s cage. 

Richie pushes out a heavy sigh, setting Noodle on Stan’s lap. “I had just forgotten about that, so thank you for bringing it up.” He doesn’t wait for a reply, instead walking the clipboard up to Beverly with a smile. He hears something that might resemble Eddie’s voice if he listens hard enough, and he nearly trips over his long feet rushing back to his seat. The glaring white tiles hurt his eyes when he looks down to catch himself but he thinks it might be better than having to watch Beverly grin at him like she knew every single word rushing a million miles an hour through Richie’s mind. 

He plops down beside Stan, leaning his head against his friend’s shoulder. Stan’s shoulder is bony and pokes directly into his cheekbone, but he can smell Stan’s grandpa cologne and it makes him feel a little bit better. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?”

“Probably forever,” Stan replies. He leans his head against Richie’s for a minute, letting Richie have his moment, before shoving Richie away. “Stop freaking out, Rich. He clearly likes you- and you know so, or else you wouldn’t be wearing your brown leather jacket.” 

“I don’t understand what’s so different about a brown leather jacket,” Richie says. He brushes a finger along the arms of his jacket, noting that it felt _exactly_ the same as his other leather jackets, except that it’s a little softer, easier to move around in. “When I’m wearing my black leather jacket I’m cool but as soon as I throw on my brown leather jacket I’m a man with a plan to fuck.” 

Stan shrugs, looking Richie up and down. “Something about the tone of the leather, I don’t know. You look good, though. I mean, like, as good as you can look.” 

“That’s so nice of you, I hope you didn’t hurt yourself with that compliment,” Richie replies, patting Stan on the head. Stan’s curls are crunchy under his fingers and he wants to tug on them and see if they’re anything like uncooked Ramen, if they’ll just pop off into his hand. 

Stan glares at him, holding up a finger and pointing it at Richie’s face. “Pull on it and you fucking die. Got it?” 

Richie fakes salutes him, pulling his hand away and sitting back in his seat. He faces forward, staring at the wall in front of him. It’s a pale yellow with a lone painting of a barn and some grass, a few cows scattered around, a little signature in the bottom too far away for him to read clearly. The sun is pouring in through the glass doors and the open windows, turning the room golden. “It’s no wonder your curls always look better than mine. You put concrete in them.” 

“I’m going to feed you to Noodle. Come here, Noodle just said that he’s hungry for-“ 

Richie’s head snaps to the side again at the door opening, and he feels his breath rattle around in his chest like a penny in a jar, his eyes taking in all of Eddie like it’s his first time seeing him. This time his scrubs are a light blue but they’re just as tight as the last pair, his legs strong and defined under the fabric. His hair is curled a bit at the tips, a few loose waves falling down around his forehead and framing his pretty face, his lips pulled back in a bright smile. 

“Danger Noodle and Richie,” Eddie says. His eyes travel the lines of Richie’s body- _thank fuck for the brown leather jacket-_ and it’s so different from the last time Richie came in that it makes his palms sweaty. 

Richie rushes to grab Noodle from Stan’s lap, flipping his friend off when Stan starts laughing at his hurried movements. “If I don’t come back it’s because I had a heart attack and probably died, so make sure to come get Noodle and take good care of him,” Richie tells Stan, even his words coming out quick and mushed together like he can’t get them out of his sticky throat fast enough. 

Stan laughs again, waving Richie away with a smile. “Have fun, don’t do drugs, use protection.” 

“Richie,” Eddie says as a way of greeting when Richie steps up into his space, blinking up at Richie with a small grin tugging at his lips. His lips that look so soft and pink and plush, teasing at the bit of resolve Richie had built up over the past two weeks to be a model patient and not try to jump Eddie’s bones as soon as he saw him. 

Richie smiles back, stopping when the toes of his boots are nearly pressing against Eddie’s shoes, trying to fight the intoxicating feeling of being around Eddie. “Spaghetti. I brought my snake.” Richie holds up Noodle’s cage, catching a glimpse of his snake through one of the holes, Noodle awake and peering out at the confusing place which is Earth itself. 

Eddie gestures for Richie to follow him back, the door clicking shut behind them as they walk through the semi-familiar hallways. There’s a few other doors that are open, and Richie notices there are other vets working- thank god, he was beginning to think that Eddie was the only one who worked here, aside from Beverly at the front desk- with a variety of animals sat in the pristine rooms. He thinks he sees a cage with a tarantula crawling around, its ugly, hairy legs pressing against the glass like it wants to be set free to devour Richie. 

“Do you have to work with spiders?” Richie asks, turning his head away from that particular room as quickly as he can. He’s never liked spiders, and he thinks that maybe subconsciously  he got a snake to protect him from them. 

Eddie chuckles, slowing his steps so he’s walking beside Richie instead of in front of him. Richie misses the view but he thinks that feeling Eddie’s shoulder brushing against his arm is a much better feeling. “Sometimes. I don’t like them much, either, but it comes with the job. They’re misunderstood little creatures, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them.” 

“The only misunderstood creature that I like,” Richie begins, trying to change the subject to something that didn’t make his skin crawl, “is a shark. They’re the puppy dogs of the sea.” 

Eddie leads them into a room, one that looks similar to the room they’d been in last appointment, but this one has a shiny metal table instead of a counter, and the walls are a soft green color instead of white. “I thought that was a dolphin? If you could set Noodle down on the table, I'll just do a little check up, look him over, and then we’ll be done. From what you wrote it seems like he’s doing a lot better already, which is probably due to the fact you take very good care of him.”

Richie does as told, carefully setting the cage down on the table, trying not to make a loud noise that would scare his snake. He pulls off the soft blue blanket, folding it up in his arms. Noodle blinks up at them, uncurling himself from around his toy and pressing against the holes of the cage. His scales are bright red and they shine when he moves around. “Dolphins are the… well yeah, I guess they are the dogs. But sharks are their cousins, or whatever, so I guess that means they’re both the dogs. And I’m glad you could read my handwriting this time, I tried really hard to write nicely for you.” 

Eddie snags a pair of gloves from the wall, tugging them on and pulling open Noodle’s cage. He pulls Noodle out, the snake wrapping around his arm immediately, his head moving up to look Eddie over. “Hi Noodle, it’s nice to see you again,” Eddie says, looking right back at the snake. “I’ve been informed you’re feeling better.” 

“I didn’t know you talked to the animals.” Richie smiles, leaning his hip against the metal table, watching Eddie run his fingers along Noodle’s scales, the vet not hesitant at all to touch the snake- which surprises Richie, even despite the talk about it _‘being a part of the job’_ because Richie knows that when he first got Noodle he was too nervous to do much more than fling a few mice into his terrarium. 

“Sometimes, if I really like them,” Eddie replies. He sets Noodle back down in his cage but doesn’t shut the door, instead reaching his hand in and moving some of the shavings around, looking to see if there’s anything hidden under the pieces. “Or their owners. But I’ve also found it helps the animals feel comfortable enough to let me poke and prod at them. With humans it’s easier because you can tell them exactly what you’re going to do and they can give their consent, but with animals you’ve just got to do it. And I’m not their owner so they’re immediately untrusting.” 

Richie watches Eddie work, feeling fond as the small man stands back up, closing the cage door but not locking it. He grabs the clipboard set on the table beside him, scribbling something on the page- and Richie was right, Eddie has terrible handwriting, but it’s at least a little bit legible. “You’re so sexy when you’re healing injured animals. Is Noodle still considered your patient? Because I _think_ my snake wants to be well acquainted with your snake, if you know what I mean.”

Eddie laughs, still writing but glancing up at Richie under his eyelashes. His cheeks are full of roses and he has a shy smile on his lips, a complete opposite to the glint in his dark eyes that has Richie’s body feeling warm. “Unfortunately I think I know exactly what you mean. And to answer your question, unless you plan on Noodle getting sick anytime in the next five hours, no.”

“Five hours?” Richie asks, his fingers tugging at the soft fabric of the blue blanket, trying to keep his hands to himself. “What happens in five hours?”

Eddie stops writing on the clipboard, setting it down on the table to give Richie his full attention. His smile is less shy and more smug, like he knows he’s got Richie wrapped around his finger. “That’s how long the rest of my shift is. I’ll call you when it’s over.” 

Richie pushes out a heavy breath. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so attracted to someone before, the heat in his belly not foreign but almost unbearably hot. If he was a poet he’d write about how there’s fire licking up his skin, burning through his clothes and coursing through his veins like they were full of gasoline, making him completely and utterly Eddie’s. “I knew that you were planning on having sex with me and yet I’m still surprised you haven’t changed your mind.” 

“You should see yourself, Richie. All I can think about is what you’d look like underneath me,” Eddie replies quietly. His voice is soft and warm and full of pretty promises that make Richie’s brain roll itself into a ball in his head and knock around his skull like a penny left in a jar. 

He blinks down at Eddie for a moment, trying to keep his eyes from falling out of his head. His words are like mist, slipping away when he tries to snatch them up and spit them out- for once, Richie Tozier is rendered speechless. He takes a rattling breath, shaking his head to get the fog from his mind, clearing his throat to get the cotton out so he can speak. “Well, uh, unless you want me to jump you right here I think that is my cue to leave. Do you- do you need my number?” 

Eddie grins, holding up his clipboard, shaking it at Richie. “Got it here, baby. Come on, I’ll walk you and Noodle out.” He pulls off the gloves on their way out, tossing them in the trashcan and glancing over at Richie, who’s staring at him. “What?”

Richie shakes his head, turning to walk back to the waiting room. He knows that at this point Stan has probably decomposed having to wait for them. “Nothing. Just hoping you’d ask me to cough twice before throwing those away.” 

“A prostate exam is way above my paygrade,” Eddie replies. He bumps his shoulder against Richie’s playfully, their footsteps matching up perfectly as they walk. He’s radiating warmth- Richie can feel it through his jacket, and it makes him want to kiss all over Eddie and see if he could warm Richie’s lips up. 

“Oh, what were you planning on us doing tonight, then?” Richie asks. 

Eddie laughs, the sound bouncing around in the hallway beautifully, a sweet song for Richie’s ears. “If that’s what you’re into I guess there’s a first time for everything.” 

They make it to the door too fast, in Richie’s opinion, and he wants to reach down and kiss Eddie, or hug him, or see if Eddie’s ass is as soft and perky as it looks in his pants. He doesn’t do any of those things, instead reaching down to grab Eddie’s hand, squeezing it. “Call me,” Richie says, throwing Eddie a wink. 

Eddie drops his hand, opening the door for Richie to walk through. “I will.” 

  
  


Richie can feel Stan staring at him. His eyes are like a physical touch. They’re burning a hole into his cheek, like fucking laser vision, but Stan’s completely silent, not voicing his thoughts and just sitting there, his hands settled in his lap, his head turned in Richie’s direction. 

The car is silent too. Richie doesn’t want to reach forward and turn on the radio because he knows that if he does Stan will start asking questions and probably won’t stop until he implodes. If he pretends Stan isn’t there, then maybe Stan will go away. 

Until Stan decides that staring isn’t enough, and reaches over into Richie’s space, poking Richie repeatedly on the shoulder. He’s really going for it, probably pushing hard enough to leave a bruise on Richie’s arm, but he’s still not fucking speaking. 

Richie nearly explodes. He’s supposed to be the annoying one, supposed to be the one who gets beeped and gets punched in the arm when he won’t stop, supposed to be the one who gets yelled at for taking things a bit too far. Since when did him and Stan switch personalities? “What, Stanley? Why are you acting like a five year old who just got told no? Do you want to go to the fucking park that bad, huh?” 

Stan stops poking him, sitting back in his seat. His eyes are still on Richie’s face, but Richie glances to the side and sees a smile tugging at Stan’s lips. “You having sex tonight?” 

Richie grins smugly, already forgetting how annoyed he just was. Their friendship was an enigma, even to them, always had been, so Richie never cared to look to deep into his Stan-induced emotional rollercoaster. “Hell yeah I’m having sex tonight. He could barely keep his hands off of me.” 

Richie pulls up to a stoplight, turning to look over at Stan. He has his head leaned up against the window, his eyes looking out of the glass like everything he was seeing was new to him, as if the trees and the grass and the other cars and the buildings weren’t things they saw everyday. “Let’s hope he doesn’t mind looking at your sasquatch ass hair.”

“I do not have sasquatch ass hair- what the fuck does that even mean? Everyone has ass hair. Even _girls_ have ass hair, Stan, bet you didn’t know that.” 

Stan shakes his head, and Richie can see Stan’s reflection in the mirror. Stan looks like a dumbass, Richie thinks, because Stan always looked like a dumbass. His hair does look nice all curled up pretty like that, and Richie considers getting concrete for his own hair. “I’m not an idiot, of course I know that. But no one really has ass hair like you do, Rich.”

Richie turns his attention back to driving, not wanting to look at Stan anymore. “Fuck you. Don’t be jealous because you’ve been having sex with the same two people since eleventh grade.”

“Mike and Ben are wonderful in bed, I’ll have you know,” Stan replies, and his words sound angry but there’s a smile in his voice that Richie loves to hear. 

“Thank you for your unwavering support, I’m so lucky to have a friend that cares about me and my sex life as much as you do, Stanny. You’re truly the love of my life. So glad that I’ve wasted twelve years of my life caring about you as you do for me,” Richie says. 

Stan laughs, and reaches over to pat Richie on his thigh, his hand warm. “Love you, dickard.”

“Love you too, Staniel,” Richie replies, flipping Stan off with a smile. He checks the clock to see how much time has passed since he last saw Eddie, pouting when he discovers its only been ten minutes. _Four hours and fifty minutes to go._

  
  


When the phone dings a happy song, bright and chirpy and _holy shit holy shit_ , Richie almost breaks his neck sliding down his hallway and into his bedroom where he left his cell on the charger. He’d told himself that if he didn’t sit there staring at his phone then time would move faster and it wouldn’t even seem like he was waiting for Eddie’s call- but that was complete bullshit, Richie discovered, because all he’d thought about was Eddie. Eddie’s hands and his legs and his mouth and his eyes and Richie was already wrecked. 

He flings himself onto his bed, grasping at his phone and looking at the message blinking up at him. His breath his rattling around in his throat, his heart splattered in his chest. 

 

[8:38pm] _Hey_

[8:38pm] _It’s Eddie btw_

 

Richie stares down at his phone so long that it goes black, the message disappearing with the LED lights in his screen. He feels like he’s never seen a text message before, never seen a phone before, doesn’t know how to type back. 

He takes a deep breath, clicking open his phone and typing out a reply. 

 

[8:42pm] **rich: hi**

[8:42pm] **rich: it’s richie btw.**

 

He watches the three bubbles pop in the corner of the screen, waiting with bated breath for Eddie’s response. He’s been thinking about Eddie finally texting him that he feels like he might be in shock that it actually, finally fucking happened. He knows there’s a giant toothy grin on his face, can’t seem to wipe it off, his head light and fuzzy. 

 

[8:44pm] _eds: That’s the point._

[8:44pm] _eds: Did you miss me too much?_

 **rich: define too much** [8:45pm]

[8:45pm] _eds: Did you think about anything else but me?_

 **rich: absolutely not.** [8:45pm]

[8:46pm] _eds: Good boy._

[8:46pm] _eds: You ok to call?_

 

Instead of replying Richie clicked on the FaceTime option, seeing that he did, in fact, have a big stupid smile pulling on his lips, his eyes wide and happy. His heart is a butterfly in his chest, wings beating wildly against his ribcage, his stomach fluttering at the feeling. 

When the call connects Richie is face to face with Eddie, who is smiling a similar smile as Richie, his chocolate brown hair tousled on top of his head and falling down in tired curls on his forehead. 

“Hi, Richie,” Eddie says. His voice sounds higher over the phone and it’s so cute that Richie’s systems almost shut down. 

“Hey spaghetti man. I’m just a tiny bit nervous,” Richie admits, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks at Eddie. “I don’t know how pre-planned hookups usually go. Is there a book for it? _‘How To Hook Up With Your Pet’s Veterinarian: For Dummies!’_ ”

Eddie giggles and shakes his head, looking amused at Richie’s nerves. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, Rich. It’s just me.” 

“Exactly why I’m nervous,” Richie counters. “You’re you, you know?”

“I do know that I’m me. We don’t have to do anything you want, but I do have one teeny tiny request for you.” Eddie’s eyes are glittering, dark and full of stars and mischief. The camera shifts as Eddie walks, and Richie gets a glimpse of Eddie’s apartment, noticing the cat tree overwhelming a large corner of the living room, and a few colorful paintings hanging up on the wall that blur by too fast for Richie to see the contents of. 

Richie’s apartment is decidedly less clean than Eddie’s, even just going off of the brief look he got of Eddie’s place, because he’s never cared much about seeing what his carpet looks like and tended to just throw his dirty clothes on the floor until it was time to wash them. “What’s the request, your highness?”

Eddie smiles before getting serious, his voice less playful when he speaks, “I don’t want to take any time away from fucking you tonight, are you okay with stretching yourself out at home? I still want to watch, of course, I’m not a monster, but I figured it would be easier for the both of us…” 

Richie nearly moans at the words, making sure to store them in his spank bank for later, nodding before Eddie is finished speaking. If he wasn’t two seconds away from bursting into flames before he sure is now, his body hot all over like he’s running a fever. “Fuck, yes, okay, sounds like the greatest idea I’ve ever heard. I have a lot of options, what were you thinking?”

“Show me,” Eddie tells him, his voice rough and strong, sugary sweetness all gone. It makes Richie’s dick twitch in his jeans, making him squirm as he stands from his bed. 

He takes practiced steps to his dresser, avoiding the obstacles scattered around his floor with graceful ease, flipping the camera as soon as he tugged the drawer open so Eddie could get a look at the contents. “I have dildos and butt plugs and stuff. My favorite one is the green butt plug; I know it’s an unfortunate color but it’s the biggest and it fills me up the best.” 

Richie grabs the butt plug he’s referring to, holding it up in the light so Eddie can see. It’s not very long but it’s thick, and there’s a little sticker on the flat end of it with the Hulk on it- after a drunken night of shenanigans and embarrassing, inappropriate talks that were common between Richie’s friend group, Stan had given Richie the sticker as a gag gift, saying it “matched perfectly”. 

Eddie hums, his eyes scanning the screen thoughtfully, as if the decision of which toy Richie was going to stick up his ass was the answer to humanity. “Use the green one, then. It is an unfortunate color but I want you to be stretched good so I don’t hurt you.” 

“You can hurt me,” Richie replies quickly, flipping the camera back to his face. His cheeks are dusted in pink, his freckles more defined with the redness. Normally he’d be embarrassed by his own eagerness but he can see the way Eddie perks up, his eyebrows raising high on his forehead, and it makes Richie feel better. “Like, I have boundaries, of course, but there’s a few things I’m really, _very_ okay with.” 

A smile is back on Eddie’s face, and it looks predatory, like Richie is something he wants to eat. “Why don’t you tell me about them while you stretch yourself out? And we can decide whose place you want to meet up at.” 

Richie wastes no time tugging off his pants, setting his phone up on his nightstand so Eddie has a view of him while he undresses, both of them silent save for Richie’s rushed breaths, drenched in lust. He’s half hard, and he feels light headed when he remembers that he’s being watched by Eddie, his blood pounding through his veins. He grabs the half-empty bottle of lube from the drawer in his nightstand, taking his phone off too so he can flop back on his bed, his phone held between his knees as he fiddles with the lube cap. 

“You’re cute when you’re focusing,” Eddie says sweetly, and the tone in his voice sounds condescending and mocking. 

Richie pouts at the phone, holding up the finally opened bottle victoriously. “Got it. I know you’re just dying to see my asshole, Eds, but my hands are shaking. Hard to mess with this fun sized lube bottle.” 

“Why are you shaking?” Eddie asks. He sounds concerned, but Richie figures it’s probably just for show. 

Richie squirts some lube in his hand, rubbing it around on his fingers to warm it up a bit. “I told you, spaghetti, you make me nervous. And I’ve never had someone watch me do this. I usually top, you know?” 

Eddie laughs at that, and he’s definitely mocking now, his eyes practically glowing with mirth, like Richie just told the funniest fucking joke in the world. “Poor baby, no one ever took care of you. You make me nervous, too, if that makes you feel any better. I’m just better at hiding it.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Richie replies, mostly to himself but loud enough for Eddie to hear. He takes his phone out from between his knees, stupidly realizing he didn’t have a way to set it up so Eddie could see all of him. “How am I gonna do this…” He decides to balance his phone against his footboard, scooching down on the bed so he was laying relatively in the middle of his mattress. 

He couldn’t see Eddie’s reaction but he could hear the steadying breath Eddie pushes out, and he feels proud knowing that not only does he make Eddie nervous, he also turns Eddie on- him, Richie Tozier with the loud mouth and unruly hair and lanky body, makes the pocket-sized wet dream on the other side of the phone all hot and bothered. If life is really a game, and Richie is nearly positive that it is, he’s definitely fucking winning. 

“You look so good, baby,” Eddie says, his voice sending shivers down Richie’s spine. “Go slowly, tease yourself.” 

Richie does as he’s told, circling his fingers around his hole, spreading the lube around, goosebumps raising on his skin at the feeling. His dick is leaking onto his stomach, already almost completely hard, and he wants nothing more than to jerk himself off to the sound of Eddie’s voice- but he also wants to obey Eddie, so he doesn’t touch himself more than just teasing at his rim. 

“That’s good, good boy. Push your finger in,” Eddie tells him. 

Richie thinks he hears Eddie’s belt buckle, a whine falling out of his mouth at the idea of Eddie palming his own erection, heat stealing into his cheeks and lighting them up like a piece of paper. He pushes his first finger in, pushing as deep as he can, moaning quietly at the feeling of his hole spreading around him, thinking about how obscene it must look to Eddie. “Feels so good,” Richie says, his voice breaking weakly around the words. 

“Can’t wait to feel you around me, baby, can’t wait to fuck you until you’re crying my name. Add a second finger.” 

If Richie’s already this wrecked he doesn’t want to imagine what he’s going to be like with Eddie there, touching him, soft and warm. He adds a second finger, scissoring himself open and stretching himself out more. He pushes in so far that he rubs against his prostate, his body jerking forward with the feeling, a moan sticking in his throat, his head thrown back as far as it will go. He keeps pressing against his prostate, precum welling in a little puddle on his belly, his dick curved up and red at the head. “Want you, Eddie,” Richie mumbles, his eyes blinking up at his ceiling, his free hand clenched tightly in his sheets. “Want you to bite me and mark me and make me beg.” 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Eddie says, and Richie can hear the moan slicking up Eddie’s words, making them rough and husky. “Are you okay to put in the plug? I don’t want you to hurt yourself too bad, so tell me if you’re not.” 

Richie grabs the plug from beside him wordlessly, squirting more lube in his hand so he can spread it onto the cool plastic. His heart is racing in his chest, his entire body throbbing with the feeling of his blood pounding through his veins, his breath coming in short puffs. “Only one way to find out,” Richie replies. 

When he deems the plug lubed up enough he teases at his hole with it, leaning up on his free elbow to watch Eddie’s reaction. Richie thinks he likes seeing what he’s doing to himself, too, so it’s an added bonus to see the way his hole glistens with lube. Eddie looks completely wrecked, his eyes black save for the glittering color that the lights from his room and his phone leave in his pupils, and his lips look shiny and red, like he’d been biting them. 

Richie begins slowly pressing the toy into himself, taking deep, soothing breaths to make the feeling of being stretched more bearable, his arm shaking where he leans on it. His toes are curled tightly in the sheets, a cramp already beginning in his left foot- which he ignores, only pushing the plug deeper. 

Eddie’s eyes are laser focused on Richie, and at any other time Richie would probably be laughing at the way Eddie barely blinks, but right now all it does is make him even harder. If there was a list of Top Five Hottest Moments In Richie Tozier’s Sad Life, this right here would be number one, up beside that time he literally caught his jeans on fire. He definitely feels similar to when he turned his pants into ash, feels his heart turn itself upside down, feels like he just got shoved into a preheating oven- this one is mostly an internal feeling this time around, though, his blood steaming through him and making him hot to the touch. 

Eddie moans for real this time, loud enough for Richie to hear it, the sound going directly to Richie’s dick. “You look so fucking good, baby,” Eddie says in a whisper, “look so good spread out for me.”

Richie pushes the toy completely in, all the way up to the hilt, while Eddie murmurs praise at him sweetly through the phone, both of them moaning and breathing heavily. Richie’s covered in a sheen of sweat, his body glistening underneath the bright lights of his bedroom, his skin flushed and red. Eddie looks much of the same- less sweaty because all he had to do was fucking watch- but his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are clouded with lust. 

“If my asshole doesn’t fall off, my dick surely will,” Richie says, his voice rough from the moaning he did. He’s flopped back on his bed, his phone clutched tightly in his grip, Eddie laughing softly on the other line. 

The camera jostles as Eddie moves around his kitchen, his feet shuffling along the ground while he waits for his glass of water to fill up. “I sure as fuck hope not. Whose house do you want to do this at?”

Richie hums, weighing the pros and cons of having Eddie come to his place. Pro, he wouldn’t have to drive. Con, he’d have to try and clean up with a plug up his ass. “I’ll go to yours. I do want my snake to see or hear this sinful act we’re going to be doing.” 

“Have you even read the bible?” Eddie asks after he swallows the mouthful of water he’d just gotten, smiling at Richie through the phone. 

Richie shrugs, finally sitting up and suppressing a moan when he does so, the plug shifting deeper inside of him. He figures he should start putting on clothes but his knees feel like jello, his body shaking with unreleased tension. “Sure, some guy shows up, creates this fucking shithole, and then forces us to live in our mistakes. What’s there to read?” 

Eddie laughs, shaking his head at Richie. “Can you just get over here so we can skip to the sinful act? The microscopic-sized amount you know about Jesus amazes me.” 

“Pretty sure it was God who did the creating so maybe you should go back to church,” Richie replies with a smile. “Send me the address, I’ll try to hurry.” 

  


Richie knocks on Eddie’s door, number twelve, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. He’s sweating from the effort not to cum in his pants, his hair curled and damp on his forehead. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt while he waits, nerves beginning to patter around in his chest again, his stomach full of butterflies. 

He’s beginning to get worried that Eddie changed his mind when the door swings open, Eddie standing there shirtless, his legs clad in soft looking sweatpants, a pretty smile spread out on his lips. Richie could probably write a novel on his beautiful Eddie always was, on his soft brown hair and tan skin and glittering eyes. He has freckles splattered on his skin like paint, some on his chest and shoulders, a few scattered on his belly, all in perfectly kissable places. 

“I’m sorry I took so long, I was in the bathroom,” Eddie says, and his lips are curled in a soft smile that makes all of Richie’s thoughts drip out of his head and back down his throat where they’re lost in the mess that is his body. He pulls the door open wider so Richie can walk in, watching Richie hobble around with amusement dancing in his eyes. 

Richie steps through the doorway, his eyes flitting all around the apartment. It’s even nicer in person, everything shiny and new-looking, the walls covered in pretty paintings and pictures of Eddie. This time Richie sees a little kitten curled up on the cat tree, its fluffy tail hanging over the edge and swishing side to side lightly. “Oh my god, can I please touch it.”

Eddie laughs, shutting the door behind them, walking over to where the cat is laying and gesturing with a wave of his hand for Richie to follow. 

Richie does, but he stops when he sees a familiar head of red hair, his eyes drawn to the photo. It’s of Eddie and Beverly, and a pale, amber haired boy Richie doesn’t know, all piled up on a one-seater couch, Eddie smiling even with the two others squishing him into the cushions, all of them mid laugh. Beverly is leaned forward with the power of her laugh but Richie can still see her sparkling green eyes, and he can’t help but smile at the photo. “I didn’t know you were friends with Beverly. Just figured you were colleagues that said hi while grabbing cups of coffee before never speaking to each other for another three months.” 

Richie plops down on the couch where Eddie is, fingers running through the soft fur of the cat immediately. He pushes down a gasp at the way the toy stretches him further when he sits, and Eddie looks up with a knowing smile, looking like he was trying to contain a laugh at Richie’s expense. “No, I knew her before working there. Bill, the other one in that picture, was my best friend when we were kids, and then he met Beverly in high school and the rest is history.” 

Richie nods along with his words, blinking up at Eddie and watching as he smiles fondly down at the sweet cat in his arms. “What’s its name?” 

“His name is Jake,” Eddie replies, the cat perking up when he hears his name, his green eyes staring Richie down with the curiosity of- well, a cat. “Like Jake from State Farm, but it’s Jake from Pet Smart. Stupid, I know, but Bill came up with it and I didn’t have the heart to say no.”

Richie laughs, patting the cat on the head appreciatively. “Jake, I’m so sorry for what you’re about to see and or hear. Please don’t hold it against me, or against Eddiekins over here.” 

“Is that my cue?” Eddie asks, standing to put Jake back on his spot on the tree. He reaches a hand out for Richie, tugging him off of the couch when Richie wraps his fingers around Eddie’s. He curls a hand around Richie’s waist, his fingers hot even through the fabric of Richie’s shirt, his eyes even warmer as they scan Richie’s face. “Can I kiss you?” 

Richie nods, swallowing down the nerves climbing up his throat, his voice a barely there whisper when he says, “Yes, please,” fingers squeezing Eddie’s tightly. 

Eddie presses his lips against Richie’s, soft at first, testing and teasing and driving Richie insane. It feels good, feels right, like Richie was born to have his lips on Eddie’s, their lips moulding together perfectly. Richie doesn’t feel any electricity running through his veins, but he feels chills racking through him, his body so full of _Eddie Eddie Eddie_ that he can barely make enough room to breathe. Eddie’s tongue is running along the seam of Richie’s lip and Richie opens his mouth for him, Eddie’s tongue licking against his own, lighting him up from the inside out. 

Richie pulls away, feeling lightheaded and out of breath, leaning his forehead against Eddie’s, looking right into Eddie’s pretty brown eyes. “I’ve wanted you to do that since I first saw you,” Richie admits sweetly. He brings his free hand up into Eddie’s soft hair, running his fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, scraping his nails lightly along his scalp. 

“Glad it wasn’t one sided,” Eddie replies. He sighs softly, his breath blowing against Richie’s lips, his eyelashes fluttering. “Come on, I’ll take you to the room. I know you can’t be comfortable with that toy up your ass.”

Richie nods, letting Eddie walk him to his bedroom. He watches the muscles in Eddie’s lower back shift as he walks, wants to reach out and brush along his dimpled skin. “Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying seeing me walk around looking like a dumbass. I think I nearly came at minimum three times on the way here because of my car bouncing when I went over potholes.” 

“You drove yourself?” Eddie asks as he pushes open his bedroom door, revealing the room Richie had gotten glimpses of on the phone. It was clean in here, too, but there were a few articles of clothing scattered on the floor, the bed sheets clearly slept in. There are a few pictures lined up on the dresser and Richie wants to go look at them but Eddie is tugging them towards the bed. 

Richie sits on the edge of the mattress, Eddie standing between his legs looking down at him. Richie can feel his dick throbbing in his jeans and he knows he probably looks like a complete wreck, feels sweat beading on his forehead. “Yes, but it was a good idea at the time. So- uh, where do you want me? And please say you still want me.” 

“Ah, no sorry, I’ve changed my mind in the last four seconds,” Eddie teases, but the hand he curls in the hair on top of Richie’s head says otherwise. He tugs, eliciting a groan from deep in Richie’s throat, looking down at Richie like he’s a new toy he got for Christmas. “Why don’t you get undressed and I’ll decide from there, okay?” 

Richie unbuckles his belt, tugging his jeans and boxers off in one fell swoop, taking his socks down with them. There’s a bead of precum at the tip of his dick, glistening in the golden light of Eddie’s room. He doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed when Eddie can barely take his eyes off of him. His shirt goes next, and then Richie is completely naked for Eddie, his body hot under Eddie’s sharp gaze. 

“So pretty,” Eddie compliments, taking his hand from Richie’s hair and wrapping it around Richie’s dick. He doesn’t move his hand, just leaves it there at the base, warm and soft against Richie. 

A moan hitches out of Richie’s throat, his hips bucking up to try and get some sort of friction, his hands moving to wrap around Eddie’s bare shoulders. He tries to hold Eddie in place while he moves against him but Eddie just takes his hand off of Richie’s dick, his face still only a few inches away from Richie’s. “Please, it feels so good,” Richie whines, leaning forward to press his lips against Eddie’s. 

Eddie kisses him back softly, like an apology, his mouth sweet and warm. He presses his hands into Richie’s shoulder blades, giving Richie a gentle push and breaking their lips apart. “I promise you’ll feel better soon, baby. Lay back.” 

“Are you going to fuck me now?” Richie asks, doing as he’s told, scooting back further on the bed so he’s laying with his head on the pillows, his hair fanned out around him. Silvery moonlight pools in through the window beside Eddie’s bed, pale against the warmth of Eddie’s bedroom light, making Eddie look like an unfinished painting, marked up and mixed together and still so perfect. “I think I’m going to fucking implode if you don’t.”

Eddie laughs, leaning down to pull of his pants and boxers, finally naked like Richie. He’s stunning and Richie can barely keep his eyes off of him, traveling the lines of his body over and over again like it was a book written in a code he was dying to figure out. “Yes, ‘Chee. You need to work on your patience, baby.”

“Seems to me like you’re not impatient enough. You wanna sex me up, I can see it,” Richie replies, gesturing to Eddie’s semi-hard dick. He wants to feel that inside of him rather than the hunk of plastic stretching him open, can feel his stomach clenching at the thought. 

Eddie doesn’t reply, just climbs up on the bed, moving to sit beside Richie’s legs. His hands are cold when he sets them on Richie’s thighs, massaging at the sensitive skin there, gently spreading his legs apart. He leans down to leaving a burning kiss on the inside of his leg, his tongue licking a strip from Richie’s lower thigh all the way up to the curve of his hip. “Is it okay if I mark you?” 

Richie nods quickly, his fingers coming up to curl in Eddie’s thick hair, his pale skin a big contrast to Eddie’s dark locks. “Yes, please.” 

Eddie’s moving all over Richie’s thighs, his mouth sucking marks on both legs. He takes the skin between his teeth and nibbles it, a moan falling from Richie’s lips, the sound hanging above them like a cloud in their little bubble. 

When Eddie moves his head away Richie’s hand falls back down to his side, his chest heaving, his eyelids fluttering childishly when he looks up at Eddie. Eddie’s eyes are painted in lust and desire and he’s looking at Richie like he’s a masterpiece. He pushes Richie’s legs up, spreading them wide and nearly bending Richie up in half. 

Richie can’t see what Eddie’s hands are doing but he feels it when Eddie starts tugging the buttplug out slowly, his body jolting forward on the bed. Richie’s fingers are clenched around his own legs, nails digging into his skin and leaving little red crescents in their wake. He feels empty when Eddie pulls it out completely, his hole left clenching around nothing, his body so used to the stretch that it starts to ache. 

“I have some lube and condoms in the bedside drawer, why don’t you reach over and grab them,” Eddie says. His voice is loud in the quiet atmosphere of the room, reaching over to Richie and tickling his ears. Eddie’s voice is back to that rough, husky tone, and it makes Richie want to do anything Eddie tells him to. 

He hands over the two items, sitting up on his elbows to watch Eddie tear open the condom, rolling it on his length. Eddie glances up under his eyelashes at Richie, smiling when he notices that Richie is already watching, a pale blush spreading along his cheeks and he looks like an angel. Not only is Richie sexually attracted to this man- clearly, considering their current position- he’s also _attracted_ attracted to him, his heart soft and mushy at the sight of Eddie, his eyes warm looking at Eddie move around. 

Eddie squirts some lube into his hand, rubbing it on his dick until the condom is shiny and glistening under the lights, bending down to wipe his hand on his boxers laid out on the floor. It’s such an unsanitary, not Eddie thing to do that Richie can’t help a little laugh from falling out of his mouth. 

“Who knew that the Eddie Kaspbrak is just as gross as I am,” Richie says at Eddie’s questioning glance. “I was expecting you to get up and wash your hands.”

Eddie shakes his head with a small laugh, crawling back up to where Richie is and tugging Richie’s legs up and apart. “I have a feeling there will be more fluids on my hands soon, with how hard you already are,” Eddie replies. “And I didn’t want to wait any longer.” 

He bends down to give Richie a lingering kiss, his eyelashes butterfly kissing Richie’s own, the tips of his hair falling and tickling at Richie’s forehead. They’re touching all over, their chest brushing and their mouths pressed together, Eddie’s hands around his thighs, his knees pressed against the back of Richie’s legs. Each spot of pressure feels like a shock of electricity running through Richie, like he’s sticking a fork in a socket and he loves the burn, loves the way his body jolts when Eddie’s dick presses against his hole, spreading him back open. He feels so full again, fingers twisting up tightly in the sheets, clenching around Eddie. 

“You feel so good,” Eddie says. His fingers are digging into Richie’s thighs, the blunt end of his nails pressing so hard he’s no doubt drawing blood. He’s thrusting shallowly, allowing Richie to get used to the feeling of being filled again. 

Richie pushes out a heavy breath, his throat sticky with arousal, his body hot all over. “Go faster, please,” Richie requests, his voice weak and soft and wrecked. His dick is so hard that it hurts and he wants to touch himself, wants to quell the painful throbbing, but he doesn’t want it to be over so soon, wants to feel Eddie inside of him and against him for as long as he can. 

Eddie does, his hips moving quicker, his dick sliding until it’s almost completely all of the way out of Richie, just the head still pressed in his hole, before he’s snapping his hips up and pushing back in. Eddie’s moans aren’t as high and whiny as Richie’s, instead low and short, and Richie thinks that if that was the only sound he could hear for the rest of his life he’d be completely okay with that. 

Richie’s only ever bottomed for himself, his own fingers up his ass or his own dildo, and the feeling of Eddie warm inside of him makes him wonder why he never had before. He wants to tell Eddie this, tell him that Eddie’s probably changed him for good, but when he opens his mouth all that comes out is a broken moan of Eddie’s name. 

Eddie’s hair is fanned out around him, bouncing on top of his head every time he thrusts into Richie, so Richie takes that as an offer and cards his fingers through Eddie’s hair, tugging anytime Eddie hits inside him perfectly. 

Eddie takes one hand off of Richie’s leg to move it up to Richie’s chest, rolling one of his pink nipples between two of his fingers, the little shockwaves of pleasure rolling through Richie’s body like volts of electricity, like he’s a live wire getting drenched in water. 

Richie’s leg throbs where Eddie released it at, and he doesn’t care enough to look and see if his suspicions are right and Eddie drew blood, because Eddie’s bending down and popping Richie’s nipple in his mouth, his hand still teasing at the other one. Eddie rolls Richie’s nipple in his teeth, his tongue coming out to sooth the burn when Richie lets out a high whine. 

“That hurts, fucker,” Richie says, moaning when Eddie tugs hard, his mouth warm and wet and soft. Richie clings tightly to Eddie’s hair, his fingers clenched in the loose curls on top of Eddie’s head. 

Eddie pulls off of him, his lips pink and shiny with spit, blinking down sweetly at him. His cheeks are pooling with a red flush, one that’s already spread on his chest and neck, and he’s shiny with sweat. “I thought you wanted me to hurt you, baby.” 

Richie laughs, the sound closer to a desperate gasp of air, feeling warmth spread through his cheeks at the pet name. Eddie’s still fucking into him but he’s slowed down so they can talk, his eyes focused on Richie’s. “I want you to bite me, not pull my nipple off,” Richie replies, gesturing to the empty canvas of his neck. “No one is going to be seeing the inside of my thighs soon, but I’m going to have trouble hiding the neck region.”

Realization dawns on Eddie’s face and his lips tug up in a grin, hands hot when he reaches to run his fingers down the length of Richie’s pale neck, scraping lightly with his nails. The barely there feeling sends shivers down Richie’s spine. 

“Not to be that person but where the fuck do you work if you’re not worried about hickies,” Eddie says, bending down to leave soft kisses where his fingers just were, stopping at the hollow part of Richie’s neck. He breathes against Richie’s neck, air tickling against Richie’s skin. 

“I’m a radio dj and sometimes I do stand up,” Richie replies. His breath comes out of him in a rush when Eddie sucks under his jaw, hips starting up again all the while, his teeth nibbling and biting and tongue soothing. “I’ll probably do a skit about this. Won’t use your real name, though, I know you have a reputation to uphold in Sunday School.”

Eddie laughs in the crook of Richie’s neck, the sound getting lost in his skin. “Let me know when the show is, maybe I’ll bring you flowers.” 

Richie goes to reply, his mouth opening to say something that would probably come out stupid, but Eddie’s teeth close around the junction of his shoulder and his neck and instead he’s pushing out a low whine like a kicked puppy. His dick throbs and he thinks that he could probably just cum from this, from the feeling of Eddie breaking the skin of his throat, leaving bruises in his wake, looking like kisses from the devil. 

Richie unfolds his legs to wrap them around Eddie’s waist, ankles hooking above Eddie’s ass and pressing him to go in deeper, fingers still running through the soft strands of hair on his head. 

Eddie goes as deep as he can with every thrust, brushing against Richie’s prostate when he does, mouthing at Richie’s neck, hands running down Richie’s sides, tickling near where Richie wants them but never actually touching Richie’s dick, leaving him panting and begging. 

“Please, Eddie, I’m so close,” Richie says, his voice broken and weak all over again, his body tired from all the waiting. 

Eddie presses a kiss against Richie’s forehead, right above his eyebrows, sweet and gentle. “What do you want, baby? I can’t read minds.”

“Touch me, make me cum, please,” Richie replies. He arches into Eddie’s touch when his fingers brush against his erection, body clenching up tight around the almost-feeling. Richie’s babbling, begging, pleading, whatever he can to get the feeling back, his chest tight. His arousal is running through him in waves, burning through his veins like acid. 

Eddie spits on his hand, and Richie nearly tells him that he doesn’t need to because his dick has been dribbling precum since before they even started, but Eddie’s wrapping his fingers around the base of Richie’s erection, cutting the words off before they’re even formed in his throat. He bucks into Eddie’s hand, Eddie watching him move with warm eyes, blinking from Richie’s face down to his dick, pausing to stare at the red marks welling up on his pale neck. 

Richie moans a broken, chewed up version of Eddie’s name when he cums, spilling over Eddie’s hand and onto his own stomach, body shaking with the power of his release. He feels the white-hot heat of his orgasm unfurling in his belly, and it makes him want to yell, his ass clenching around Eddie inside of him, his eyes squeezing shut. He feels like he’s cumming for hours, his body so pent up that his orgasm rockets through him over and over again. 

Eddie’s moans are playing in the air around them, his hips stuttering into Richie shallowly, head hanging down so it’s resting on Richie’s chest. Richie clenches tightly around Eddie again, tugging on his hair and spewing encouragements, his motormouth moving a thousand miles a second, his brain moving too fast for him to concentrate on what words are actually falling from his lips. 

It does the trick, though, Eddie cumming after a few more thrusts inside of Richie, his fingers twisted in the sheets beside Richie’s head, his voice muffled by Richie’s chest when he moans out Richie’s name. 

Richie runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair gently, pushing the sweaty locks off of Eddie’s forehead as they both catch their breath together, Eddie’s shoulders still heaving with his short breaths. 

Eddie sits back, slipping out of Richie slowly, his cheeks still tinted red and so pretty, his chest splotchy and shining with sweat. His lips are dark pink and covered in spit, and his eyes are soft when they trail along Richie’s face, his body painted silver and gold and red. 

It’s quiet and Richie’s heart is pounding in his chest, his nerves waking up to tickle in the back of his throat. “That’s was cool, thank you,” Richie says, and he knows it’s the wrong thing to say when Eddie sits back on his heels, blinking down at Richie with confused eyes. 

“It was ‘cool’? Just cool, nothing else?” Eddie asks, watching Richie carefully while he squirms, all of his past confidence gone, thrown out the window and down the street.

Richie scoots up so he’s sitting with his head against the headboard, bringing his knees up to his chest so he can rest his chin on them, smiling ruefully at Eddie. “I’m sorry I get nervous and say stupid shit and I figured this is where you tell me to leave so I thought that if I acted like I didn’t want to stay then it would hurt less when you asked me to get the fuck out.”

Eddie almost smiles but he doesn’t, instead shakes his head, reminding Richie of what his mom would do whenever Richie said something particularly unsavory at the dinner table. “I wasn’t going to ask you to leave, but if you want to go then be my guest.” 

Richie’s heart soars, his breath coming out in a relieved sigh. He stretches his legs back out, examining the bruises that are forming on his thighs, scattered along his skin, a stark contrast to his pale legs. He lays his head on the soft pillows, giving Eddie a genuine smile. His eyelids are beginning to feel heavy, the after-sex need to take a year long nap hitting him square in the forehead. Eddie looks so soft and warm and pretty despite how sweaty he is and the drying cum on both of them, and Richie wants nothing more than to curl up around Eddie and sleep. “Since I’m saying will you please be my little spoon?” 

Eddie smiles then, nodding and standing from his bed. He pulls off the soiled condom, tying it up and throwing it into his trashcan. Richie likes watching him move, likes seeing the way his muscles stretch and contract and move, likes watching how his tan skin glistens in the lights. “I’ll clean us off and then we can go to sleep. Sound okay?” 

“Perfect,” Richie replies, his voice small and sleepy. Eddie could’ve said that they were going to sleep on the cat tree with Jake and Richie probably would’ve agreed, so long as Eddie was there. “Hey, Eddie,” Richie calls just before Eddie walks out of the room, presumably to go get them a washrag.

Eddie turns to look at him questioningly, his eyes sparkling even from across the room. Thinking about how pretty Eddie is just makes Richie’s stomach turn into mush so he tries to keep the constant string of new things he’s noticing- and liking- about Eddie to a minimum. 

Richie blows him a kiss, throwing in his signature wink that started this all. “Thanks for checking out my snake, if you know what I mean.” 

“Regretting my decisions more every second,” Eddie replies, turning to leave the room, but not before Richie sees the dazzling smile on his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me after having sex with my snake's veterinarian: cool, thanks. 
> 
> fun fact eddie's cat is just my cat!! he's a great little guy, everyone deserves a pet like jake 
> 
> thank you for reading!! kudos & comments are welcome <3 
> 
> love, tori

**Author's Note:**

> i still can't spell the word veterinarian without googling it so it might be spelled wrong throughout this whole thing.... hopefully no one else knows how to spell it either 
> 
> kudos & comments are welcome!!
> 
> love, tori


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